


But it was all pretend, right?

by Frodo_lives



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frodo_lives/pseuds/Frodo_lives
Summary: Some reflections on why Zayn left after all.





	But it was all pretend, right?

**Author's Note:**

> (I have no memory of writing this but damn. Found it last night, so I'll post it. Original notes, too.)
> 
> I have this theory, having recently been drawn into the vortex that is the One Direction shipping fandom, that it wasn’t at all against “the management’s” wishes that the boys should throw innuendos at each other; quite the opposite. I mean, a boyband is all and well but a boyband in the era of LGBT-acceptance where cute boys touch each other all the time and, more importantly, one could capitalize on the emerging shipping culture - well, who wouldn’t want to get in on that?
> 
> And everybody knew that each second of each of their appearances would be scrutinized, mercilessly cut up and re-cut, every “stolen” glance noticed, every oh-so fleeting touch reinterpreted depending on which ship you enjoyed this voyage on. And having examined the evidence (hehe) I got the feeling that those shipworthy moments weren’t coincidences. They happened too often and too publicly to be a few lover’s whims (I know too little of course, I don’t actually engage in academic research with this, only leisurely research). They were too aware of what their behaviour caused in their fans and from then on it seemed rather premeditated.
> 
> But what if they didn’t want that at all and were pushed to do it (“You’ll sell more records!”)? Or they did feel affection for each other, pure, non-sexual affection that was born out of a sense of unity when they were merged into this little group that nobody had anticipated (but hoped for, surely) would become what it eventually did? And to foster that very growth people behind the scenes would occasionally encourage certain behaviours on-screen, which would then become reasons fans would follow them, and then they would become habits, and then they wouldn’t question it anymore.
> 
> Nobody could force them to behave this way, you mean? Perhaps I’m too cynical but by God we regularly make the widest variety of people eat animal testicles on camera. Regularly. It’s a thing. Watch the movie Network (1976), back then they already knew what TV producers were capable of doing with people on-screen. It’s not too far-fetched to assume that all this shipping was wanted, encouraged even, that their actions were planned out and that they might have even been aware that this was happening. Or it might’ve been more subtle, especially since e.g. Harry seems to be more in the middle of the spectrum (sexuality-wise) anyway and a recommendation here, an appropriately staged interview there was all it took for the millions of fangirls to believe that true love was real and that it came in the shape of five adorable young British boys singing and repeatedly getting semi-intimate with each other during concerts and TV appearances.
> 
> Now, leaving the world of reality and entering fanfiction-territory, what if one of the guys did start feeling something “for real”? And faking it just for the views, adding to that the fact that they were adults still singing tween songs (which wouldn’t be a bad “official” reason to leave, now, would it?) one could get the impression that for someone it might’ve been too much.
> 
> Or I’m reading way too much into all of this, of course.

_They made me prefer to be on-stage rather than off. I suppose, as a musician, you’re supposed to prefer that. But not because of this._

The common room of the huge hotel suite was surprisingly quiet. Liam was standing around, drink in hand, with one quick sip it was gone, however, so all he was left with was an empty glass. Harry was sprawled out on a couch, his unseeing eyes half closed. Zayn tried to count. Two? were missing. He walked up to Liam, laid an arm around him, as he was used to do. The other didn’t appreciate it. He swatted him off, jerking away angrily. Zayn stood there, quite numb himself. “Oh. I forgot.”, he slurred and turned away. Was he crying? Oh, no, it was just hiccups. Alright.

“Liam, don’t be an ass”, Harry mumbled, though with more force than one would anticipate. Liam gave an exasperated sigh. “We have a deal. On stage, that’s it.”, he then added. “I’m sorry--”, Zayn started but Harry spoke over him: “Cut the boy some slack.” Liam stared at Harry, drunk and angry, menacing almost. Harry stared back at him, lifting his eyelids with all his might. Liam finally huffed and turned to leave. “Goodnight”, he growled and was gone.

Zayn sighed. “I’m sorry”, he muttered again, to no one in particular. “Don’t worry”, Harry muttered back, shifting on the couch, eyes almost closed again. “I don’t want to fight”, Zayn tried to explain. “Shh”, Harry purred in return. “Come here”, he added, arm outstretched, falling off the edge of the couch.

_I wanted to. I really wanted to go to him. I looked at his outstretched arm, the nook of his shoulder that was way too familiar. I felt myself looking at him and time slowed down even more than it already had. I was so piss-drunk. I would have never touched Liam like that if I wasn’t. I knew it was a game for him, just publicity. But I forgot myself sometimes. With either of them, but especially with Harry… but he welcomed, it too… I hated myself for it, but I already felt my feet move towards him, despite my strong urge to just bolt._

Zayn laid down quickly, as if anticipating that Harry would change his mind. But he didn’t. He leisurely plopped his other hand on Zayn’s hip. Zayn dared to nuzzle against his friend and sheepishly place his hands on the other’s chest. He sighed in relief, feeling a pleasant warmth cutting through the numbness caused by all the vodka he had ingested.

 _It’s wrong but it feels so right_ , right? Now this age old sentiment made perfect sense to Zayn. He knew this was wrong. He himself was engaged and just because Harry would indulge him with a drunken cuddle every once in a while (which the opportunity for, granted, arose quite often, especially on tour) didn’t mean he actually wanted it. They were so used to touching that perhaps once his inhibitions were gone he simply didn’t mind continuing the charade they had to piece together on stage.

This tour was insofar different that they were all older now. They had been away from home for how long, now? He couldn’t tell anymore. As their desires grew from childhood fascinations to actual sex drives, being together all of the time became an unbearable pain for Zayn. Groupies were out of the picture now, too, what with Perrie and all that. But even when he still had that it was nothing compared to the feeling his friends provided him with.

One in particular.

But it was all pretend, right? They were never told _per se_ what they should do but it was _understood_ . And they did, perfectly. One would think that them being in relationships, even with each other, would turn fans away but oh, how wrong they were. Soon Zayn began to feel stirrings, though, and he tried to laugh them off. Showing off before the cameras suddenly got extremely fun, though. He enjoyed it so much that it seemed he might be crossing a line… then Perrie was introduced, or should he rather say, forced on him. _Aha, I overdid it._ Which was fine, Perrie was a fine enough girl. It didn’t stop their stage play either way, he felt like it was even more permissible now.

But there’s a reason they got hammered every night and it wasn’t the stress from the tour. Nobody can maintain a role as long as they were meant to. And in Zayn’s case it was off-stage when he had to do the pretending and that was just as good a reason to drink.

Harry’s breathing slowed down considerably. Zayn peeked at him, trying to see whether he was off to dreamland yet. His eyes were closed, so it was safe to assume so. Zayn used this opportunity to nuzzle even closer to his friend. He even risked waking him up by pulling himself closer, tugging on the other boy’s shirt. Harry’s hand stirred slightly, getting dangerously close to falling off his hip. Zayn froze, his heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest.

This fantasy couldn’t have held on much longer, Zayn realised with an aching pain in his heart, when Harry lazily opened one of his eyes. He then rapidly opened the other one as well, when he saw Zayn’s concerned gaze staring back at him. Harry lifted his hand from the other boy’s hip to his cheek, caressing it gently, now himself with a concerned look on his face. “Zayn--”, he whispered, ever so gently, a slight hint of the sweet drink he had had before still on his breath. A shiver ran down Zayn’s spine.

“I’m cold”, he said, in a pathetically weak voice. He turned red as he was saying it, he felt it clearly. He could have said any number of things. He could’ve apologized. Or said that he couldn’t do this anymore. That he was tired, always tired. That this was way too much. Not least of all, that he had fallen in love with him. No. Better yet if he had just gotten up and walked away, pretending he never laid in his arm in the first place.

Pretending, always pretending. He was sick of it.

But it didn’t matter because he did it anyway. “I’m cold”, was all he managed, though he wasn’t and if Harry was just a little bit sober he would immediately notice. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t.

Harry embraced his friend completely now, intertwining their legs, pulling him so close that their whole bodies were touching. He must’ve noticed Zayn’s sudden arousal but if he did, he didn’t give it away. Zayn stared at him, aghast. “Harry--”, he breathed so shyly that the other might not even have heard it.

But he did, of course. He caressed the older boy’s cheek again and whispered: “It’s alright.” Shivers, those damn shivers again.

“What are we doing”, Zayn breathed out, trying so hard to stay reasonable. “You’re cold”, Harry answered bluntly, looking him straight in the eyes. _This is your chance,_ Zayn thought, _just go with it_ , he pleaded with himself. Silence, breathe in, breathe out - and he didn’t just go with it. He slowly shook his head no. “I’m not”, he whispered, defeated.

The expected push didn’t come. Quite the opposite. Harry drew even closer to him. “I know”, he murmured so close to his ear, that his breath tickled his skin. Zayn’s heart skipped a beat, then it started pounding hard in his chest, he was scared shitless of how much he was enjoying himself.

“A-are you for real?”, he asked, pitifully hopeful, his voice shaking at this point. “Hm?”, Harry inquired, searching for the other’s eyes. “Because I think I-I--”, he stuttered but Harry wouldn't let him finish. He pressed his lips onto the other’s, closing his eyes. Zayn’s were wide open, he thought his heart couldn’t beat any faster. He actually squealed, though it was muffled by the kiss. Harry pulled away, he was shocked when he noticed Zayn’s terrified eyes staring at him, his whole body shivering with every heavy breath. “Babe, baby, Zayn--”, he cooed, as he held him. His own voice was shaky now, he hadn’t anticipated this. “What’s going on, I’m sorry, I thought you--”, he tried further, the words just stumbling out of his mouth like that. And now it was Zayn who interrupted him. He pressed down hard on his lips, winding his arms around Harry’s slender form, holding on to it tightly.

He quickly rolled on top of Harry, kissing him eagerly, making his hunger for him unmistakable. Harry gave in, he dug his hands into the other boy’s back, feeling his muscle tense up in ecstasy. Zayn ripped open Harry’s already loose-fitting shirt, tugging and tearing at it. He didn’t even pull it off completely when he was already tracing kisses down his pale skin, making Harry moan as if they were the last people on Earth.

Zayn went ever further down, until his chin hit the buckle of Harry’s belt. The younger boy moaned louder but he felt his pants being unzipped he suddenly shrieked. “No, please, Zayn--”, he whined in a high-pitched voice. Zayn’s head shot up to meet his gaze. He had wild eyes, his messy hair falling in streaks over his features. “Why?”, he asked lustfully, licking his lips. Harry was aroused and Zayn’s appetite didn’t help with that at all. But still: “Please, don’t.”, he insisted, sitting up. Zayn lunged forward, just to be close to him again. “But you won’t let me ever again--”, he tried. They had gone through all the innuendos on stage and Harry had never seemed shy. Why now? Why wouldn’t he let him--?

“Not like this”, Harry asserted, putting his hand on Zayn’s shoulder to keep him at an appropriate distance. Zayn immediately grabbed his arm and leaned to the hand on his shoulder to kiss it.

“Why?”, the older one asked again, staring. Harry finally averted his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything to you anyway, does it”, Zayn pushed further. Harry whipped his head back, glaring straight at Zayn, pain and anger in his eyes. And tears. _How dare you,_ his eyes screamed at him. Harry stood up, turning to leave. Zayn got up immediately and lunged at him from behind, pulling him into a violent, overcompensating embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, Harry, please, oh God, no, sorry--”, he whined, nuzzling the other’s neck, tears streaming down his face.

So they stood, in silence, both breathing heavily. Finally Harry leaned his head back, laying it down on Zayn’s shoulder. He reached his arm around his head and grabbed Zayn’s neck, rubbing it gently. He turned around whilst firmly locked in Zayn’s grip and it was his turn to pounce at him. The emotional rollercoaster from just moments before, his desire combined with his intoxication now exploded in a fire of delicious wrath. He grabbed Zayn’s collar and pushed him against the wall, then against his hotel room door, then onto the bed, and then himself onto him, all to the laughter, delight and arousal of the other.

***

Zayn was last to breakfast. He walked into the small dining room, his bandmates were already sitting there, chatting quietly, nibbling away at their toast, heads buzzing with the well-known consequences of a night like the one before. Despite feeling similar symptoms Zayn was uncharacteristically cheerful. He might’ve even jumped up a bit while humming whatever he was humming but nobody noticed.

He went around the table to get to his spot. Next to him sat Harry, so naturally, before sitting down he halted behind the boy, put his hands on his shoulders and leaned down to give him a sweet, sweet kiss on the top of his head. Then he just sat down.

But something wasn’t right.

All eyes were on him. When he looked up even Harry had an uncomfortably questioning look on his face. _What?_ , he thought to himself but nobody dared speak. They just kept staring, time stood still, the tension rose-- and a slew of managers, producers, assistants poured through the dining hall door. _Thank you._

They continued their breakfast in silence, the yammer of the management people hanging somewhere in the air. This definitely wasn’t right. Zayn stole glances at Harry who seemed to ignore him, which infuriated him. And each time the others sent him punishing looks, too. It was a nightmare and soon his appetite disappeared completely. He tried to reach for his coffee cup and nearly pushed over the milk in the process. Only Liam’s quick reaction prevented a disaster. “You alright?”, he asked in an almost concerned tone. “Sure”, Zayn quipped back, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, the coffee cup still standing there, mocking him.

And Harry hadn’t even looked over once. That was enough. Zayn got up and simply walked away. In the hallway the tears already came so he was lucky that nobody crossed his path. He sacked down against the wall in his room. He felt so wretched and pitiful that if he wasn’t feeling so physically awful from the night before he would punch himself in the face. Then the possibly worst thing of all happened - someone came in the door.

He would’ve accepted anyone being there _except_ him. But of course he was the only one who would come because he was the only one who knew what had happened. So, Harry crouched down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Zayn looked at him, hurt plainly visible in his face. “Why are you here”, he stammered, trying to sound accusatory but it just ended up sounding hoarse and weak. “I’m sorry, Zayn”, Harry started, gazing lovingly back at him. “But you know we can’t.”

“Why?”, Zayn managed, nuzzling closer to Harry, using every chance he had to be next to him. “It’s what we signed up for. Besides, it’s not just us in the band, you know that.”, Harry reasoned but Zayn wouldn’t give up so easily. “So what? We’re not harming anyone.” - “Except our image.”, Harry contested. “Our image?”, Zayn asked, pulling back, looking at him in disgust. “Our band members - our friends - they depend on us to be a certain way. We all depend on each other to work as a team. It’s why this band works.”, Harry explained. Zayn’s featured softened but he still tried to make a case for himself - or for them, rather. “But you know, Liam’s just a pain in the ass - don’t mind the pun - Niall doesn’t know who he is and Louis--” - “What about Louis? Don’t you go rage on him--” - “What, because you fucked him?”, Zayn spat out. Harry didn’t answer. Zayn understood and tried to struggle out of his embrace but Harry wouldn’t let him. “We wanted to, Zayn, but he understood that it’s not an option.”, the latter explained. “Well, but I can’t.”, Zayn said resolutely, finally escaping Harry’s grip and standing up, tears running down his face anew. Harry jumped to his feet as well. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to, babe… I feel very attached to you.”, he said further, in a soft voice. “But you won’t be with me.”, Zayn contested bitterly. “I will honour my obligations”, Harry said, stepping closer to the other boy. “I won’t! I _want to be with you!_ ”, Zayn shouted, his emotions overwhelming him. He covered his face with his hands, trying to compose himself.

Harry didn’t make it any easier. He wrapped his hands around Zayn’s waist, putting his head on his shoulder. Zayn leaned back, giving into him. He just couldn’t resist. “Harry…”, he murmured softly. “Zayn…”, Harry breathed back, not knowing what else to say.

Zayn turned around, careful not to leave Harry’s embrace. He cupped his face with his hands, staring intently into his eyes. Harry was ready to protest but he resisted the urge. Instead their lips met in a passionate, loving kiss. Neither knew who pulled whom closer, whose tears those were whose and how long it lasted. Suddenly they heard a faint _“Harry? Zayn?”_ coming from the hallway, so they parted unwillingly. Harry looked into Zayn’s sad eyes. “I can’t do this anymore”, the latter said. “What does that mean?”, Harry asked, fear apparent in his voice. “I’m quitting”, Zayn responded calmly, gently caressing Harry’s cheeks. “No you can’t, you can’t leave me--”, Harry protested, whining, threatening to burst into tears again. Zayn stopped him from talking by pressing his lips shut with his own. “I love you, Harry”, he said with a gentle smile, his sadness gone completely. It hurt, sure, but his resolution made him feel good.

Harry didn’t answer, couldn’t answer - because somebody was already knocking on the door. Zayn gestured gently for Harry to go. “This is my room, after all”, he joked but the latter didn’t really find it funny. In the end he left. He was more important anyway, nobody came into Zayn’s room or asked about him. He didn’t leave it until the evening, until they had their performance.

His last performance, as it turned out.

_“It’s you, it’s you”, I sang, tears in my eyes, looking at you. You looked away, you were mad at me, you had every right to be. I confessed my love for you and decided to quit anyway? I knew you’d hate me. But I did sincerely hope back then that this would give us the opportunity to be together, after my departure._

_You refused and I understood. But I still love you and I know, in your heart you do, too._

_Maybe one day you’ll stop pretending, then we can be together. I’ll wait for you._


End file.
